


Instead Of Counting Dollars We'll Be Counting Stars

by CatChan



Series: Take Their Breath Away [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gen, The Merchant of Death, Young Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 09:13:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5285126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatChan/pseuds/CatChan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony was twenty-two when she actually looked out the window while they were driving into the base and saw the columns. They were made out of black marble, and there were ten of them, placed in a semi-circle, inside a miniature garden.<br/> </p><p> </p><p> <i>Or, the story where Tony Stark gets a new vision on what she does, and decides to embrace her work path fully.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Instead Of Counting Dollars We'll Be Counting Stars

 

Life as a twenty plus genius billionaire was, interesting, at least, if nothing else.

It was also hard for anyone else to relate to, they tended to think that because she wasn't wanting for money, she didn't have a single problem. They saw the Ferrari and the Lamborghini and the Porsche, and they thought they had seen everything, they thought Tony lived in a dream, they didn't see the hours juggling the paperwork, fighting the numbers, keeping tracks of the properties and making sure everything was accounted for and taken care of.

Of course, there was worse situations to be in, but she knew if she dared to complain about the tax persons being nitpicky like others complained that their insurance didn't reimburse the repairs on their cars, she would be immediately dismissed, her and her rich kid's problems.

So she didn't complain, except in galas, with other rich people, but those weren't that interesting people to talk to.

 

* * *

 

She had two common things with people, sex, and technology.

So that's what she did, she had sex, and she built things. Which meant she was becoming an impressive pick-up artist and that she mostly talked to the people she worked with, but at least she talked to them, if only to ask which kind of cooling fluid they thought was more appropriate in this specific case.

 

* * *

 

One of her favorite persons to talk work with was the Lieutenant-Colonel Stan (but she kind of liked calling him Lee, it made things feel less formal).

He was getting really old, should have retired already, but Tony didn't like anyone else that had been proposed to replace him, and since the military had to have a competent person to link them with Stark Industries that Tony actually talked to.

They saw each other an average of five times a month, and Lee was half retired, only working with the army enough to be up to date on Tony's design, and taking care of the “talking to Tony to let her know what we want exactly” part of their contracts.

Which meant that Lee usually took her to the range to fire guns or rockets, or other weapons, and showed her the result, then explained what they'd like best. Tony liked to have a vision of what was asked of her. 

 

* * *

 

He also showed her which pub the soldiers liked to relax in around there, since Tony found the mood in such places ideal to ask the guys on the ground what they thought of the latest upgrade or equipment, this was where they were in a mood to talk for real, and to bitch and complain, when they use to be a lot more courteous if she asked them the same question anywhere else.

 

* * *

 

Truth to be told, Tony didn't really believe in what she was doing. She mostly did what a good engineer did, took all the constraints in sight, and made sure her costumers were happy with her design.

 

* * *

 

Tony was twenty-two when she actually looked out the window while they were driving into the base, instead of staring straight ahead or looking at Lee, and she saw the columns. They were made out of black marble, and there were ten of them, placed in a semi-circle, inside a miniature garden.

And, well, she knew what these meant, but still, she turned to Lee eyes wide “are those?”

Lee looked out too, and made a sad little smile. “These are the names of the soldiers attached on this base who died in engagement.”

Tony stared at them as the car drove by and took her decision. “Happy, stop.”

She climbed out of the car and walked toward the columns, slowly, she could come by as an airhead to most of the people she talked to, but this place, a simple circle circled by a garden asked for silence and respect.

She scanned the columns one after the other, they were ordered with dates, the first one started just a little after the secession war, and the last one only had one year printed on. the list of names stopped at about a third. The last one had died just a month ago. They were waiting until tis column was filled to add another one to the right.

The realization that it was expected for this column to be filled and another one to be added made her shed a tear, and, as quietly as she could speak for Lee to still hear her from where he'd stopped, half a step behind her, she asked. “Which ones had Stark weapons?”

Lee stepped forth, and pointed the seventh column. “I believe this is when we started contracting with Stark industries.”

Tony stayed silent, contemplating the rows of names and dates on the stone. The she whispered. “Which ones had my weapons?”

She didn't need Lee to put his hand on the column to show her at what date she had taken over the company, she could do the math herself, but she also felt the need to vocalize her thoughts.

She slowly creped up to the last column, extending a hand to touch the stone just besides a name that had a death date indicating two weeks after she took the reigns of her company over.

Her mind automatically did the operation, presenting her with the age of this John Wethers when he'd died.

Twenty-six.

One of these ages when people said you had your whole life before you.

Her eyes skittered down, taking in the newer names and dates, her hand slowly sliding down the marble until it fell to her side.

She turned to look straight at Lee. “Did I fail them?”

Lieutenant-Colonel Stan looked back at her unblinkingly. “I don't know, did you?”

Then he turned back to the list of names. “I don't feel like you did, these men and women had their weapons at their side, and if they died because one of them malfunctioned, them maybe you did indeed fail them, but even in a weapon malfunction, things can't be pinned on the engineer, or even the manufacturer quite so easily. It is to the soldier that befalls the duty of taking care of their weapon, knowing them and their weak and strong points are, and working around them. No weapon can be perfect, and even if one was, it would mean nothing if it was not wielded correctly.

Maybe You could have done better by some of them, Tony, but you didn't fail them, you would only do that if you could fix a malfunction and didn't do it for bad reasons.”

“I could have done better by them, couldn't I?”

Lee put a hand on her shoulder, “maybe, by a few of them, but no matter a good a weapon they have, it won't save them if they aren't in a situation where they can use it. War will always have death, but we should strive not to have any avoidable death.”

 

* * *

 

Tony brought a bunch of flower to the columns the next time she visited the base, and she looked again at her design, wondering how to make them better, how to insure the list of name didn't stretch faster than it needed to.

 

* * *

 

She was soon dubbed “the merchant of death”.

As hard as it was to swallow, she went on, designing better and better weapons, trustworthy weapons, weapons that would keep the most possible American soldiers alive by swiftly destroying opposition and imposing peace.

 

* * *

 


End file.
